The Modern Prometheus, or, The Angel of Death
by LyricInTime2803
Summary: A second look at the episode The Sky is Falling. Inspired by Monica’s comment about liking the children dressed up as Frankenstein and his bride. Andrew/Monica shipper, but mostly still in the friendship realm- left it up to your own interpretation.


_**  
The Modern Prometheus, or, the Angel of Death**_

_By LyricInTime2803_

Disclaimer: I do not own Touched by an Angel or any recognizable character. They belong to Martha Williamson. Frankenstein references are from the book _Frankenstein, (or, The Modern Prometheus) _by Mary Shelley.

Warning: Contains spoilers for episode 3x07 "The Sky is Falling"

Summary: A second look at the episode "The Sky is Falling," from different perspectives. Inspired by Monica's comment about liking the children dressed up as Frankenstein and his "wee bride." Andrew/Monica shipper, but mostly still in the friendship realm- left it up to your own interpretation.

A/N: My first fic, ever… so feedback- including constructive criticism- would be greatly appreciated.

* * *

_  
"I saw—with shut eyes, but acute mental vision—I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together. I saw the hideous phantasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the working of some powerful engine, show signs of life and stir with an uneasy, half-vital motion. Frightful must it be, for supremely frightful would be the effect of any human endeavor to mock the stupendous mechanism of the Creator of the world."_

_-Frankenstein (or, the Modern Prometheus), by Mary Shelley_

* * *

A cold breeze whispers through the dark streets, rustling piles of yellow, orange, and brown leaves that have fallen from the trees, causing them to scratch and crawl their way across the still damp pavement, as if resurrected from the dead in one last testament to the spirit of the night. The moon and the flickering streetlights cast harsh silhouettes across lawns, their dancing shadows merge with the orange glow of jack-o-lanterns and decorations to contribute to the eerie and ominous atmosphere. Yet despite the ghostly ambiance, the crisp air is filled with an almost tangible flavor of excitement and anticipation. Leaves crunch loudly under sneakers that peak from beneath the robes of masked children running from house to house. Laughter and calls of 'trick or treat' hang in the air like music as young people rush urgently to collect as much candy as possible before the end of this Halloween night.

Amongst the diminutive ghosts, bloodied skeletons, and gnarled witches, three individuals stand unseen on a street corner. To the passing trick-or-treaters, the corner looks deserted, adorned only with an empty bench, a parked car, and a sturdy lamppost. But unseen to those human eyes, three angels engage in conversation, their dispositions unlike those of the eager children who pass obliviously by them. An auburn haired woman in a red shirt and beige jacket stands solemnly propped against a lamppost, watching a dark-skinned woman with silver streaked hair who was sitting on a nearby bench, delving into a bag full of candy.

"Crud bars, gummy gophers, and sugar-coated yuck-yucks. Whatever happened to candy corn?" Tess sulks grumpily as she continues to rummage through the sugary treats.

"I hate Halloween!' declares the third cohort irritably. Leaning crossly against the trunk of the red sedan with his clenched fists shoved in the pockets of his khaki pants, Andrew shakes his head, his long blonde hair prominent against his blue flannel shirt and black blazer. "It gives death such a bad reputation!"

"Actually, I'm not that fond of it me'self," contributes Monica as she steps away from the lamppost, her elocution thick with an Irish cadence.

Also stepping away from the car, Andrew removes his hands from his pockets, gesturing pointedly with his arms as he continues with his rant. "How is an Angel of Death supposed to compete with this kind of propaganda? I mean, this starts when they are kids, and by the time they are adults, they really believe that death is something… scary. Like it's some evil, dark, gruesome horror show." With a sigh, his angry and disgusted countenance changes slowly into one of dejection. "It makes me want to cry," he finishes miserably, turning away from his friends and sitting once again on the car.

"Have a crud bar, Angel Boy," offers Tess sympathetically. She knows that as an Angel of Death whose job is to help souls leave the body and escort them to Heaven, the mockery of the beautiful phenomenon is insulting. As Andrew reaches with a slight pout to accept the sugary peace offering, Tess turns to Monica with a hint of teasing in her smirk and a challenge in her raised eyebrows. "You gonna tell him the real reason you don't like Halloween?"

At this, Andrew pauses and looks at Monica expectantly.

Somewhat startled, Monica anxiously shakes her head, trying to back out of the conversation. "Ah, no, Tess, I'd rather not discuss it," she pleads.

Tess shakes her head. "Uh-uh. You can't just not discuss it, or you'll end up like your new assignment." At her last comment, Monica raises her eyes to follow Tess's pointed finger. In a second story window, an elderly man peeks through the white curtains at the streets below, a sad expression painted on his furrowed face.

"Who's he?" Monica asks curiously.

Exasperated, Tess once again pokes around her bag of candy. "Why is it when people look at an old face they never see the child inside" she responds, with a roll of her eyes.

At Tess's words, the man's face begins to change in Monica's mind, the image replaced with one of a young boy, but still with the same sad expression. Immediately, Monica recognizes the child hidden behind the man's distressed and ripened face.

"Is that Leonard?" Monica asks incredulously, as she recognizes the man for the boy he once was. "The little boy who was afraid of the dark?"

Tess smiles proudly as she nods her head, knowing Monica would figure it out eventually.

Monica takes a big breath as she turns her eyes back to Tess. "I wondered what happened to him," she admits guiltily.

"Oh, he went on to live a full, rich life," Tess responds, as Monica's eyes return to Leonard's form in the window. She continues, with the passion always on her face when relaying the personal details of an assignment. "He became a famous writer. He still has a lot of stories to tell, but there's one he'd love to forget… And you're the only one that can make sure that he doesn't."

Andrew stands by listening attentively, wondering about Monica's past. They have worked together for over a year now and he is still getting to know the enchanting little angel, but already cannot imagine not working alongside her as she has quickly become his closest friend. He can sense from Monica's anxiety and Tess's gentle sternness that there is more to this story.

Monica, for herself, looks panicked. "Oh, no, Tess, I'd rather not," she pleads.

Tess, however, remains firm. "Oh yeah, baby, you're going back. He needs you. And you need him."

Still scared, Monica's eyes dart to Andrews, seeking comfort and assistance. She knows, however, that he cannot help her, that he doesn't even know the story of her disastrous attempt to help Leonard. And as much as she trusts him, she is so ashamed of herself that she hasn't been able to bring herself to tell him about it. Knowing that she is fighting a losing battle, she gives one last effort to dodge the inevitable. "Well, can't another angel handle this?" she whines.

Decisively, and somewhat ominously, Tess gives her firm answer. "No, because if you don't handle it, the Angel of Death will have to!"

Andrew raises his eyebrows as he hears the reference to himself, surprised by the magnitude of the implication. What trouble could Monica be in, he wonders. What is she hiding from? Concerned for his friend, his eyes connect with Monica's, whose eyes are filled with anguish and uncertainty as they dart between Tess's and his own.

Finally, Monica sighs, resigned, as she shoves her hands into her pockets and turns to Andrew. If she is going to ask his support, then he deserves to know the truth, she decides. "October 30, 1938. Every time I think of that night…"

"You blush!" interrupts Tess, teasingly. And Monica does just that, her cheeks rapidly reddening as she smiles, embarrassed.

"Woah, woah, woah," Andrew interrupts this time, walking up to Monica. "You mean this happened on Halloween?"

As Monica and Tess both nod their heads, Andrew rolls his eyes, infuriated. He already has a myriad of reasons to hate this 'holiday' and now that he knows it has been causing his dearest friend suffering, he has even more fuel for the fire. "Great," he says irritably, as he throws his crud bar back into Tess's bag with more force than necessary.

As Andrew paces, trying to calm himself back down, Monica continues. "It was the night I first met Leonard. The night that I first worked with Tess," Monica remembers. Andrew raises his eyebrows, surprised, turning to look at Tess for confirmation before turning back to Monica as she continues forebodingly. "It was the night that the martians landed."

Andrew is again taken aback by her disclosure. The three angels exchange glances with each other and at Leonard, who is still watching the enthusiastic antics of the children below. Lost in their own thoughts, each angel knows that there is more to be revealed this night, and they are left pondering what their own roles will be.

~A~

Andrew stands in the living room of Leonard's house, peeking out the windows as Leonard himself had been doing minutes before. A floor above him, Monica is beginning her assignment. Unsure of where Tess has gone, Andrew is left alone with his thoughts. He hates working on Halloween. As he watches two children pull a practical joke on a peer outside, Andrew is reminded of the many reasons why he loathes this holiday. People purposely try to instill fear in others and, more often than not, use images of death to provoke this fear. Death can be a beautiful thing. A body at rest, freed from pain, and a soul released and carried to the glory of Heaven. Instead, people choose to glorify gruesome scenes of violence, running around in costumes depicting bloodied corpses and evil ghosts. Not only does he find this insulting, but as he told Tess and Monica earlier, he truly does believe that it helps to instill a fear of death. Even well intentioned and naïve children begin to associate the Halloween images with real life and over the years come to fear death instead of seeing the beauty.

Worse, assignments on Halloween always seem sadder, somehow… stranger. He can remember many Halloween assignments over the years, and so many of them had been dark, tragic affairs, while still others seemed strangely unresolved.

Andrew's eyes glance upwards as he remembers one such unresolved case. Yes, he too remembers Leonard. Many years ago he had also been assigned to his case, though he was unaware at the time of Monica's role in it. He didn't even know Monica at all back then. Though not typically his type of assignment as an Angel of Death, he had been requested at the last minute to pick up two young children from the side of a nearby road and return them to their mothers. Unfortunately, he also had to inform the young boy that his father had died in an accident. He had just taken the young state trooper home minutes before. Andrew took great pride in his job, and his heart filled with overwhelming joy to see his assignments' faces when they first entered Heaven and stood at the feet of God. But he also saw the distress that was initially on Tom's face when he told him he was the Angel of Death come to take him home. When the man realized that he would be leaving his family, leaving his wife and two sons without a provider, without a husband, without a father. This was especially troubling on a night when the world was in chaos because of a fictional radio show.

Yes, Andrew was honored to be an Angel of Death, but sometimes the joy was bittersweet. And then, after taking Tom home, he had to face one of his sons, and had no other choice but to pass down the very road where Tom's body was still laid out. There was no way to avoid the scene as it was the only road that led back to town. How he wished he could stop Leonard from seeing his father, or at least have had more of a chance to talk to the boy, to explain everything to him before he caught a glimpse of his father's corpse and took off running from the car, followed quickly by his young friend. Andrew moved to follow after Leonard, when a whispered command in his heart stopped him.

"No, my son. There is another who must help him. You have done your job, and I am proud of you. Now, you must let it go."

Andrew hesitated, his heart in turmoil. He still wished to chase after Leonard, to comfort him and make sure that he was safe. But he knew that was not what God wanted, and though he might not understand it, he knew that God's plan was perfect. Andrew slammed his fists on the steering wheel of the police car in frustration. "I HATE Halloween!" he yelled. He closed his eyes and offered up a prayer, asking God to calm him and soothe his anguish, and to get him through that stressful night. Sighing, he opened his eyes and started the car, moving on to the next assignment who needed help on one of the darkest nights of the year.

~A~

Andrew is startled out of his reverie by footsteps coming down the stairs and voices in the foyer as Monica speaks with Allen, Leonard's son. He shakes his head, trying to clear his remaining thoughts. He had always wondered what had happened to Leonard, and though he knew his assignment had been completed, it had lacked closure. Now he knew that Monica had been on the case too, that she was the other angel God had spoke of. Maybe tonight, if nothing else, he will find some closure for this case. Hopefully, he prays, Monica will find some closure as well.

Monica closes the door softly behind Allen, looking at the orange bottle of pills he left with her and thinking over her assignment. Despite her anxiety over this case, she is happy to have been given a second chance. She is pleased to see that Leonard has lived a full life, as the last time she saw him be was stuck in the deepest levels of despair over losing his father. But Leonard is once again overwhelmed by sorrow, and Monica worries that she will be unable to help him, just as she had failed those many years ago. She is not sure what medicine will heal Leonard's grief, but she is fairly certain she won't find it in the plastic bottle she holds in her palm.

Smiling, Monica picks up a piece of candy from the glass bowl Allen has left in her possession. She stares at it for a moment before dropping it back in the bowl. Turning around, she spots Andrew sulking in the living room with his arms crossed over his broad chest. Her smile widens into a teasing smirk as she proffers the candy bowl in his direction.

Andrew's shoulder's sag as he walks toward Monica, his entire body language pleading with her to absolve him of this duty.

"Monica please, please don't make me!" He drags out his words for emphasis and rolls his eyes upwards, as if begging God for liberation as well.

"Andrew! They're just little children!" Monica scolds, laughingly.

Andrew moves aside the hallway curtain to glance at the scene outside once again as he replies bitterly, "You mean those gruesome little specters of death?"

Monica giggles at his comment. She grins knowingly before offering, "I especially like wee Frankenstein and his lovely bride."

All this time, Andrew's face has held frustration and abhorrence of the situation. But at Monica's teasing words, he pauses, memories of her allusion quickly flooding his mind. Rolling his eyes, the pout falls from his face and he shares an affectionate smile with Monica before she turns and heads back up the stairs to return to her charge.

Andrew remains lost in his thoughts for only a moment longer before his eyes once again catch the colorful wrappers that fill the glass bowl in his hands. His face returns to a scowl. Sighing and dropping his head in frustration, he trudges back into the living room where he drops himself into a sheet-covered chair and lets out a groan.

Monica's words float again through his head, and his mind wanders off to a week earlier, when Monica convinced him to attend a hospital Halloween party with an assignment. The event certainly hadn't changed his dislike of the holiday, but a smile adorns his face nonetheless as he relives the memories of that wonderful evening.

~A~

_  
Monica stands in the doorway of a hospital room watching Andrew play with Luke, a six year old boy with terminal cancer. She knows that though the boy is very sick, it is not yet his time, and he is still in good spirits. It isn't mandatory for an Angel of Death to spend so much time with an assignment so long before the actual moment of death. But Monica knows that Andrew has a soft spot in his heart for children- a great big, tender, mushy, almost liquid spot, and he doesn't like to think of them being alone and afraid as they bravely fight their illness. So he visits them from time to time, giving up days off and volunteering for assignments in order to spend some time with them, offering comfort and building trust before the day comes when he finally takes them home. _

_Monica's assignment is nearly completed. Luke's mother is beginning to realize that she can't fix her son's illness by ignoring it. She must accept that her son will die, and that instead of throwing herself into her job, she should be cherishing her remaining time with Luke. She has agreed to go to the annual Halloween party held at the hospital for its residents. Halloween has never been a favorite night for Monica, and she usually avoids partaking in festivities in an effort to elude the painful memories that inevitably assault her at this time of the year. However, she is still on an assignment, and it seems hypocritical for her to avoid the same gathering she had insisted her assignment needed to attend. Besides, she reasons with herself, it might be gratifying to see all the wee children garbed in costumes, dancing and laughing and forgetting for just one night the terrible illnesses that plague their bodies. So she agrees to go, and is even beginning to get excited about the celebration. _

_Looking at Andrew playing with young Luke, racing plastic cars around the bedside table and laughing along with him, Monica can't help but smile. He is so wonderful with children, so caring and compassionate. She hopes that Andrew, too, will come to the party, knowing that if he is with her, the evening will definitely be enjoyable. Evidently, she is not the only one with this mindset, because as she finally enters the room, she hears Luke voice the question that has been on her own mind._

"_You're coming to the party tonight, right Andrew?"_

_Andrew looks caught, and struggles to find words to let the young boy down easily. "Ah, well, we'll see about that, Luke," he responds noncommittally._

"_But you have to come!" Luke insists. He has grown very attached to Andrew in the short time he has known him and pleads with a sincerity that can only come from a child his age._

"_Yes, you have to come," confirms Luke's mother as she enters the room. "I've just gotten Monica to agree to come. It would break Luke's heart if you weren't there, too!"_

"_I really don't like Halloween," Andrew offers, feeling cornered and not sure how to free himself from the situation._

"_Oh, please, Andrew! It won't be the same without you! Please come?" Monica begs, beseeching Andrew with her eyes._

_Now Andrew feels very trapped, and senses that he is losing the battle. "But I don't have time to get a costume," he offers feebly._

"_I'll take care of everything, Andrew, I promise!" Monica supplies, turning her vivid brown eyes to his._

_Andrew turns from Luke's own wide eyes to Monica's, and immediately realizes that he has lost._

"_Fine," he surrenders, sagging his shoulders miserably._

"_Yay!" cries Luke, content with the turn of events._

"_Oh, thank you, Andrew, thank you!" Monica exclaims, rushing over to hug her friend, overcome with joy. "You won't regret this, I promise. We're going to have so much fun!" Monica doesn't notice Andrew roll his eyes as she continues, "I'll have to hurry if I'm to get both our costumes! Andrew, you just relax and I'll have everything ready for you tonight, just meet me here before the party."_

_Monica is so excited, she fails to notice that Andrew's face holds not a trace of the enthusiasm that is plastered across her own. "I'll see you two at the party. Happy Halloween!" she calls to Luke and his mother, before disappearing from the room in a whirlwind._

"_Happy Halloween my foot," Andrew mumbles under his breath. "There's nothing happy about it!"_

_Suddenly, a thought crosses Andrew's mind, and he rushes out the door, calling after his eager friend. "Monica, I am not dressing up as a coffee bean! Monica? Monica!"  
_

_~A~_

_  
Andrew paces along a hospital corridor as music filters out from a nearby banquet room. The hospital's annual Halloween party is already underway, much to his chagrin. He really does not want to be here, and he has to constantly fight off the desire to just leave. But he gave his word to Monica, and he cannot back out now. So he continues to pace with his back hunched and his hands in his pockets, trying to block out the orange and black decorations that surround him._

_At last, Andrew spots Monica marching down the corridor, a satisfied grin on her face._

"_Andrew, you're here!"_

"_Of course I am, Angel Girl," Andrew responds, pulling his friend in for a quick hug. "As much as I really don't want to be here, I would never break a promise to you."_

_Monica smiles up at him affectionately, before rattling the bags she holds in her arms. "I've got something for you! There were so many costumes out there, I just couldn't choose one! But a thoughtful young saleswoman helped me pick out something she swore you'd love!"_

_Andrew groans, bracing himself as she pulls an outfit out of one of the bags. Though he had every intention of humoring his dear friend, Andrew's face falls at the costume that Monica proffers._

"_I'm sorry, Monica. I can't do this," Andrew states simply, and he turns to stalk down the hallway, away from the party and his crestfallen friend._

_Monica stares at the costume she holds in her outstretched hand, then turns to run after him. "Andrew, wait! What's wrong? Is it the costume?" she asks, catching up with him._

"_Yes. No. It's everything, Monica. It's the costume, it's the decorations… It's this entire stupid holiday. I just can't do it. I'm sorry."_

_Confused, Monica grabs Andrew's arm to bring him to a halt. "Wait, Andrew, talk to me! You were okay before, until I showed you the costume. What's wrong with it? That saleswoman said she was sure you'd love to dress up as Frankenstein!"_

"_First off, it's Frankenstein's monster. Frankenstein was the doctor who created the monster. Almost two hundred years, and still people can't get it right," Andrew grumbles. He takes a breath and closes his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself. He knows that Monica is confused and just trying to help, and she certainly doesn't deserve to be snapped at. She deserves an explanation. "Look, this costume, this monster, it epitomizes everything I hate about this holiday. People run around trying to personify death in the ugliest of ways, trying to scare each other. They turn it into something vile, and it makes my heart hurt."_

_Andrew lifts his eyes to Monica's, who are still filled with puzzlement, but also with a desire to help. Exhaling, Andrew takes Monica's hand and leads her to some nearby chairs. Sitting down himself, he maintains hold of her hand, stroking it with his thumb as he chooses his words carefully. His eyes meet hers as he begins softly._

"_Angel, let me tell you the story of Frankenstein…" Andrew began. He proceeded to tell Monica the story of the ambitious doctor who studied galvanism, the reanimation of dead flesh. Of how he discovered the secret to imbuing inanimate objects with life by studying how life decays. Of how that doctor decided to play God, and created a man, but how that man was a distorted image of a human. And how when the doctor and others saw the thing that had been created, they reacted with fear and rejection. He was regarded as a monster because of his hideous appearance, and everywhere he went, he was treated cruelly. Yet if any person had looked past his ugly exterior, they would have seen that the monster sought only friendship and acceptance. While the monster was initially a harmless innocent, his loneliness and the abuse of humans drove him to wretchedness. In the original story, the doctor realizes the error of his actions, and warns that only God can – and should – create life. He explains how the story was a mockery of the sanctity of life that only God can create, and by extension, a mockery of death- both of which only He can make beautiful._

_But the story has been told and retold over the years, its accuracy suffering because of it. People began to associate Frankenstein's monster with death, even though it originally symbolized life. And because of all the terrible things the monster did, humans began to associate death itself as a horrific and violent thing to be feared. The image of the monster is still used today to instill that fear in others._

"_But that's not what people should be afraid of!" Andrew maintains. "It was the acts that were committed that should cause fear, not Frankenstein's monster himself. People should look instead at why the monster did those terrible things. He was created not by God's will but by pride and dark ambitions of man in his desire for power. Then, where God would have given love and acceptance, man gave only neglect and abuse, withholding love and causing pain. The deep, stabbing loneliness drove the monster to do unspeakable things out of vengeance against his abusers. Man turned the monster into something to be feared, just as they have turned death into something to be feared!"_

_Monica sits enthralled as she listens to Andrew's story. "Then I think this may be a perfect costume fore you, Andrew!" At his look of bewilderment, she continues quickly. "No, wait, hear me out. People see Frankenstein… sorry, Frankenstein's monster… and they immediately see death and think it's something to be feared, just as people sometimes see you at the end of their life and think you are something to be feared."_

"_Yes," Andrew agrees sadly._

"_But neither death nor the Angel of Death should be feared! And you can help convey that. You can help people remember to see that Frankenstein's monster was originally innocent, wanting only friendship and family and to be loved. And you bring people peace and love itself! If people hadn't been afraid of the monster and instead showed him love and kindness, the whole story surely would have turned out differently. And if people today stopped being afraid and started showing one another a wee bit of love and compassion, the whole world would be a better place!"_

_Andrew smiles, but Monica doesn't give him a chance to speak before she continues. "You are so full of love, Andrew, and peace, and calmness. I am so thankful to be in your presence almost every day as you fill my heart with calmness and with happiness. And anyone who spends more than a moment with you feels that peace too, and all the fear in their heart diminishes. It is your gift. I know you can use that gift to help change people's attitude towards Halloween. If you dress up, you can give people that beauty instead of the fear that is so common. You can give them that message- that death is not something to be feared. It is not gruesome or horrible or evil. It is beautiful. Man doesn't create life, God creates life, and life begins in death. And it is good, and it is right, and it is perfect."_

_Andrew's eyes have been tearing up at Monica's eloquent message. How blessed he is to have this wonderful, amazing little angel by his side- an angel with the biggest heart he has ever seen on Heaven or on Earth. He may have a gift for peace, he thinks, but she is a gift, one he thanks God for every day and will still never have enough days in eternity to thank Him enough. He couldn't have dreamed for a better friend, for someone who understands his heart so completely and could soothe his worries so effortlessly._

_Reaching for her hand, he pulls her petite frame into a tight embrace, rocking her gently. He kisses the top of her head as tears escape his eyes, rolling down his face to drop onto her head, making her hair glisten even more beautifully._

"_Thank you, Angel," he chokes out, his voice thick with emotion._

"_Always, Andrew."_

_They stay together for many minutes, letting each other's presence soothe their souls and reveling in the beauty of the moment._

_Eventually, Andrew kisses the crown of her head once again, sighing as he pulls away slowly._

"_Okay, baby. I'll do it."_

"_Monica's smile grows wider. "Oh, Andrew, Thank you!"_

_Andrew can't help but smile at her contentment. Then, he grins conspiratorially. "But I get to pick your costume!"_

_Monica pauses, not sure if she should be worried. She glances at the other bag by her feet, which contains the feathered wings and gold halo of the angel costume she had purchased for herself. She had been amused by the irony of it, and thought it might make him laugh. But she trusts Andrew and soon concedes. "Okay. What did you have in mind?"_

_Andrew takes her hand, placing a gentle kiss atop it. "Well, you didn't let me finish my story. Frankenstein's monster was so lonely, as he had been exiled by humans. He returned to his creator and demanded that he fashion another monster to be his mate, as only another like himself could possibly see past his hideous exterior into the depths of his heart. But Dr. Frankenstein refused, afraid to repeat his mistake. This greatest betrayal and denial of love was what ultimately drove the monster to seek vengeance. He was refused his last chance at acceptance and love; he was refused a bride."_

_Monica frowns and reflects the sadness of his story. Andrew's heart swells again at witnessing the depth of empathy his friend feels for even fictional characters._

"_Now, I know that God is always with me, that He will always love me, and that I will never be alone. I will always find acceptance and have a place in Heaven at His side. But without you, I would always feel lonely. Without your love, I should always feel lost and removed from the world. I would be a monster because I wouldn't be whole. You complete my heart. You are the other part of my soul. You see past my exterior, even when I am distraught or angry or doubting the world. You see right into my heart and you soothe it, you heal it with your compassion and love. I may be an angel, but I am not perfect and you see past my downfalls and love me anyway. I was created to serve God, and do so with great love and pride. But without you, I would be but a shell of the angel I was created to be, because I wouldn't be complete without you. The monster's creator refused to fashion him a companion, but our true Creator has blessed me with you."_

_Now, it is Monica's eyes that fill with glistening tears, and they fall unashamedly down her face as she throws herself once again into Andrew's strong embrace. They hold each other for some time, their hearts overflowing and love pouring down upon them._

_After a while, Andrew presses a kiss against Monica's cheek, and pulls back slightly. Taking her chin in his hand, with his other arm still wrapped around her torso, he raises her eyes to his own._

"_So, what do you think?" he asks. "Will you be Frankenstein's bride?"_

"_For eternity," she whispers, her eyes never wavering from his._

_They share another loving embrace before they turn, suddenly dressed in their respective costumes, as if blessed by the Father, and enter the party, hands still entwined between them.  
_

~A~

Andrew is once again drawn out of his reverie, this time by the shrill ringing of the doorbell. The Halloween party the week before had been amazing, and Monica had helped him to find some joy in the holiday. But regardless, humans still make a mockery out of death and turn it into something awful and tainted. And while he put aside his reservations that night for Monica's sake and for Luke's, he refuses to partake in the tradition tonight, refuses to perpetuate the lie by handing out candy. Slumping lower in the chair and bouncing his leg, his scowl deepens. He'll wait it out, he decides, and eventually they'll just give up and go away.

His plans are soon ruined, however, with Tess's impatient call. "Are you gonna open that door?!"

Andrew grimaces, turning to the supervisor, and protests, "I can't Tess. It's too insulting!"

"It doesn't become the Angel of Death to whine!" Tess responds sternly.

The doorbell rings again, echoing through the house. With a contorted frown, Andrew rolls his eyes and looks at Tess defiantly. Again, the doorbell calls through the house as the two angels stare each other down, neither willing to stand down from their position.

"Tess!" The silent battle of wills is broken as Monica's footsteps sound and her voice carries into the room. Annoyed, Tess rolls her eyes, turning to her young charge.

"And what is your problem, Miss Wings? You're supposed to be up there, not down here!"

Now it is Monica's turn receive the severe gaze of her supervisor. Andrew joins the pair, concern for his friend evident on his face. He knows how difficult this is for Monica, and he wishes there is more that he can do to help her. But he also knows that Monica is a remarkable angel with a talent for making her assignments see the truth. This may be difficult, but he knows that she will come through this not only successfully, but both she and Leonard will be stronger for the experience. It is one of the innumerable reasons why he loves the gentle little angel. Still, it pains him to see the distress clearly written on her soft face.

"Leonard wants to be alone," Monica responds wearily.

"No one wants to be alone," Tess counters.

Andrew silently encourages Monica, sharing a compassionate look that contrasts with Tess's impatient stance.

"I don't know how to get through to him," Monica continues, sighing. She doesn't often doubt her abilities as an angel, but Monica feels ready to give up.

"Well, you might try taking him back to a time when he wasn't alone. And I think you know the night I'm talking about!"

"He doesn't want to remember that!" Monica replies, shaking her head. She had thought that this evening would offer her an opportunity for resolution, but now she wishes only to be far away from here.

"Neither do you," Andrew points out. His whole heart goes out to Monica, and he wishes he could do this for her. But he has complete faith in her abilities, and decides that maybe honesty is what she needs now.

Monica's eyes dart to Andrews, then quickly back to Tess's. She holds her breath for a moment, the continued knocking at the door filling the room, before Tess persists.

"But you've got to, Angel Girl."

Monica shrugs her shoulders in defeat, then looks up with an air of resolution as the relentless trick-or-treater resumes ringing the doorbell.

"This memory will do you both a lot of good." Determined to put an end to the petulant reluctance of the two younger angels, Tess continues speaking with an air of finality. "Now, you've got to keep knocking on that door. And you," turning, she points a demanding finger at Andrew, who seems surprised at the sudden shift of attention back to himself, "You got to keep answering that door!" Tess stands, still pointing at the front door as the ringing continues, daring Andrew to defy her.

Andrew pouts, shooting a look of death at the supervisor, before stomping to the door, grumbling all the way. Tess turns back to Monica, who sighs one last time and heads back up the stairs.

Andrew finally opens the door, and is immediately confronted with a vision that perfectly epitomizes the mockery he so disdains. A young boy is dressed in a robe of the darkest black, carrying a scythe. His face is also painted black, with blood red lips.

"Trick or treat!" he calls out, unaware of the adult's diminishing patience.

Andrew clenches his jaw tightly, desperately trying to hold in his anger and disgust. He had been ready to give this a chance, to put aside his disdain and try to partake in the excitement that filled the children's hearts. And had there been a tiny girl dressed up as an angel when he opened the door, or even that boy dressed as a cow he had spotted earlier, he may have succeeded. But this, this was the last straw. He may be forced to answer the door, but no one can force him to do it happily.

"Great," he shakes his head at the cloaked and hooded child, resigned. He purses his lips, ready to face this challenge head on and set the boy straight. "Okay, pal, who do you think you are?"

"I'm DEATH!" answers the boy in the most scary voice he can muster.

"Oh, really?" Andrew counters sarcastically, making a face at the child. Normally, he loves children. Besides God, and besides his dear friends, they usually bring him more joy then anything else on Earth. But not tonight.

"You gonna give me my candy?" calls the boy impatiently.

Andrew draws in the largest lungful of air he can, letting it out slowly as he counts in his head. This stops here, he decides.

"Yeah. Yeah," he nods, gesturing towards the candy bowl. He again purses his lips, and nods to himself as well as the boy as he walks outside, closing the door behind him. "You'll get your candy. But first, I think you and I need to have a little chat."

Andrew places a hand on the boy's shoulder, leading him to two of the chairs that sit on the porch. Thankfully, this child is old enough to be trick-or-treating alone, so he doesn't have to worry about parents waiting for him. Sitting the boy down then taking a chair opposite of him, Andrew smiles, thinking of the conversation he had with Monica in a hospital corridor just days before, and begins his sermon on just who and what death really is.

~The End~


End file.
